Our Paintress


United States
27° 30' 50.6376" N, 81° 31' 36.2208" W

I bet you don’t know the man he has become
With all the lies spreading form his lungs
What was branches are now roots
We are but rotting fruits

I’ve watched you climb a ladder
As he kicked the pedal out
All you felt was the fall
Since you were too far to see
But Mom believe me

You’ve given so much and he is too ready to receive
His goal is to blind you and make you feel deceived

In our eyes you’ve painted the skies
If only you too could see
This same beauty

Dear Mom
This is not your fault
You’ve done your best and fought
All the demons in your head
I wish you could see what we do instead
Maybe one day you’ll supersede the eggshell he made empty
And fill it with youself
And all the contempt will be what you dreamt
On those nights you felt the worst
And lifted now your curse
Wake to the sun
You gave to us first


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